The Legend of Cinnabar Island
by Blitzzzzzzz
Summary: This is a short two-part story of the history behind the RBY game's Cinnabar Island, the events and happenings under the eyes of a Growlithe.


-Author's Note: Ok I still call Pokemon "it" because I don't think they have a gender (RBY-like thing). Also, I call the plural form of a Pokemon like u would say "deer", as in you don't say "deers". I say like Starmie for instance...two Starmie, not two Starmies. Ok, just didn't want to confuse anyone, thanks for looking at it!  
  
The Ancient Legend of Cinnabar Island  
  
The Growlithe landed with a hard thump upon the dirt ground. It had just reached "adulthood" in Pokemon culture. It had been battling against two other Growlithe in a battle. The pack of Growlithe, all Growlithe, surrounded the three young ones in a circle. Some of the surrounding Growlithe were very old, some youthful and strong. These three in the middle all had reached their first days as grown Growlithe. As tradition, they were to fight each other to show their strengths. The youngest one was the one who had fallen first. It laid still under the impact of a sloppy technique of Take Down. There was no grace under power in the early attacks.  
  
It was around the time when people had started training and raising Pokemon, long, long ago. The humans were not stupid or primitive, they actually had some technologies...but were barely civilized. At least, that is, to each other. It was war between all the tribes, ranging from 100 to 500 people in each. They usually "caught" Pokemon by taking and capturing young ones and trying to tame them. Pokemon were used to protect territories, and to show off in competitions...sometimes to fight in wars with each other.  
  
This group of Pokemon called Growlithe lived on an island, known as Cinnabar today, but the island was formed and shaped differently back then. In the mountains Growlithe lurked, the mountains that glowed hot and volcanic like. The ones located near the east coast of the island, separating the island unevenly. The mountains were tall and hard to cross; they started at the north of the island and stood side by side all the way to the south, making an entire strip, blockading the east side from the west side. It was like a barrier separating the larger west land from the smaller east land.  
  
The Growlithe whimpered on the ground. It staggered back against a large Growlithe and huddled under its shadow, watching the stronger ones finish. One was much quicker than the other. However, the battle never finished, because the battle cries of a human tribe were heard a bit aways and all the Growlithe ears pricked in the direction of sound. The tribe was a local one of course, wearing odd hides and carrying electric shockers at the ends of their "spears". The Growlithe tribe ran, knowing that the humans were there to try and capture them. Only having a few leaders stand forward to try and fight the intruders, the rest fled in odd directions, combining together again later on. There were about 10 men, each with a paralyzing, or sometimes accidently, diminishing spear.  
  
Five large Growlithe howled viciously and spat out fire and attacks. The young, beat up, and injured Growlithe couldn't run away very fast. It wobbled toward the herd of run away Growlithe, and heard a dull crash at its back feet. The strong Growlithe had just knocked down a spear aimed toward it. The young one stared and tried its best to scamper away. It had no way of seeing the other tribe on the other side of the mountain come. 20 new men came over, and the Growlithe knew it couldn't escape them. It fell over and rolled down the mountain about 20 feet, falling into a sort of ditch. It just stayed there, by instinct. It peeped out to see the battle, the older Growlithe all tried to get away when they heard the new intruders coming. One of them went down, and was sucked into an old Pokeball. These ones were very primitive and not very comfortable.  
  
The two tribes battled it out with each other, angry that the other Growlithe got away, blaming each other. When the dirt settled, the Growlithe looked out again to see emptiness, any one who had fallen were taken back. It felt a low rumble under its paws. It fumbled out of the ditch, scared. It let out a low whine, trying to contact another Growlithe. No answer came. It tried a few more times, but couldn't hear a clear answer like it had hoped. Maybe they were trying to be quiet, maybe they still were waiting for any human traces to leave.  
  
The Growlithe searched for food, finding dusty, wilted bushes carrying dried out berries. Then again, the Growlithe felt another rumble. Was it itself shaking from feeling lost? The quake like feeling seemed different, and it felt like panicking.  
  
Part 2:  
  
Again the Growlithe wandered alone, it had been two days since the last invasion of its old group of fellow Pokemon, and its seperation. This unfortunate Growlithe had walked around the mountains, not finding much life. Its wounds were almost healed, although it still needed some good nourishment. It was almost sunset, it decided to try and find somewhere to rest for the night, alone again.  
  
After the sun went down, and the moon just barely became visible, the changes began. The Growlithe had just found a little shelter, when it heard war-like cries, from humans, in the east. The moon light glinted off its black eyes as they traced the direction of the sound. Many, many people came crashing together, each from a side of the mountain. It looked like another tribe battle. Again scared, the Growlithe tried to move away. One tribe came from the west of the mountains, who were obviously out numbering the other side, coming from the east. But the east tribe were using Pokemon with them...early water type ones, like Staryu and Seel, a few Psyduck even. Unfortunately, even back then these Psyduck Pokemon were not considered very intelligent...and didn't change much as time went on. The west tribe had fire ones, like Charmeleon and Rapidash, some Vulpix too. The odds evened out, due to type advantages.  
  
Backing away went the Growlithe as the battle grew larger, when a now familiar thumping sound arose. The rumble? It rumbled from the ground, much stronger this time. It went on for ten seconds. Most of the humans didn't even notice, they were too taken up with the battle. Inaccurate water blasts missed their targets and drilled into the mountain, sometimes very deep, leaving huge gashes. Fire sparks lit the night, melting into the setting sun.  
  
Soon though, not only the fire bolts from the Pokemon helped light it up. Some people, more knowing about their surroundings, noticed the mountain top gurgle and splash red rocks and pumpas. The Growlithe couldn't find a way out for awhile, but after it felt another rumble, stronger than before, come bursting through, it howled from fright and ran down the west side of the mountain, panic stricken. Even the tribes noticed the now continuos earthquakes and started to drop and run away. Down the Growlithe went followed by others. It jumped off steep slopes, hanging in air sometimes, landing hard. It had too much adrenaline, it couldn't feel the broken or sprained joints somehow. Now it heard even louder screams. Turning to glance for a split second, it saw smoke and poisonous gas floating and spewing from the mountains. All around flaming rocks and other debris were flung down, it saw blurs of Pokemon and humans out of the corner of its eyes. Utter chaos, all life running out of fear. It neared the end of the chain of mountains and kept on running. Running onto land it had never felt before. As fast as it ran, it wasn't fast enough. It wanted to change, it wanted to get out of its position it somehow fell into, mostly because it was scared. It couldn't dodge the fiery stone that hit its side this time.  
  
A few seconds, the Growlithe noticed its sides burning. Not painfully really, just a prickly sensation. Its eyes gave out in mid leap and its body froze. After a moment it hit the ground again and kept on running. But its wounds seemed gone, its health seemed better. And the Growlithe felt stronger. It ran so fast away from the destruction, almost hitting the west coast beach. It turned back to see a sight. The mountains became volcanoes...but odd ones. Their wasn't the usual fatal gases and lava pouring down the sides.  
  
The mountains cracked in half, or no, snapped away from the part of the island. Not just part of the mountains became active, the whole line did! The whole string of mountains from the top of the island to the bottom were shaking and erupting. Only now giant rocks so red and brown came hurling out the tops and smashes to pieces once they hit the ground, scattering everywhere.  
  
Then the final pop was heard...the mountains snapped off the island completely. The Growlithe lowered its head from the deafening sound. The volcanoes shifted east...tearing off from the west side of the island. Now if someone stood on the island and walked to the east coast, they wouldn't run into mountains...they were completely gone, carrying the east side of the island with them. Slowly over some time, the new island of mountains drifted away from the old island still called Cinnabar. The new independent island started to settle far off the Cinnabar coast in the east. On this lone island, the Volcanoes, still active, once again split...except this time horizontality, in the same fashion as before. Now two small islands remained together, away from the other larger one they had left.  
  
Almost all the mountains had broken off from Cinnabar, except one. One volcano still remained at Cinnabar. The night the mountains broke off vertically from the island, the legends still say the early humans could see on the west side the fiery bird of legend come bursting from the center of it, showering fire balls, and then gracefully flying north. The others on the east say they could see the icy legend in the form of a bird come out from the mountains as well, raining ice, and then burying itself into the mountains once more. Those people on the east, the few that were there at the time the island eroded, didn't survive very long. The mountains kept rumbling and shifting the whole time before they rested out in the sea. Most people jumped off with their Pokemon to carry them, swimming in hope to some other shore not known to them. Some Pokemon, still wild and untamed, and were mostly water types, guided themselves into the less active mountains, seeking shelter.  
  
The new, smaller Cinnabar Island, almost mountain-less, was left with a gift, or many gifts. Yes the rocks that flew out of the sky, like the one hitting the Growlithe, were what scientists a few years later called fire stones...a stone of evolution. The Growlithe was the first to evolve to what we call now an Arcanine. After the changes and new era were done, that Arcanine still roams alone, on Cinnabar Island's west coast trying to see in the distance the legendary bird of fire in the north. Then it would travel to the east coast, trying to find the mountains, and lost east land, out in the sea. The Arcanine became legendary from then on. Whenever someone saw this lone Arcanine, running from coast to coast in the shadows as if on wings, this new strangely mysterious Pokemon, they of course called it a legend. When other Arcanine were found, and bred by humans, the traditional nick-name still lived with them, to forever remain.  
  
That is the history of Cinnabar Island, and if guessed, the history of Sea Foam Islands too. The discovery of fire stones, the legendary birds, the splitting of the island, and why Arcanine are legends  



End file.
